


Memory Loss

by itsAsecrett



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Death, Eventual Smut, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Minor Character Death, POV Arya Stark, POV Jon Snow, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsAsecrett/pseuds/itsAsecrett
Summary: “You're saying you know me?” Jon's question was genuine and she could see a hint of guilt in his dark eyes, he has no idea who I am. The realization made her look at him with eyelids unwillingly filled with tears, Arya opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat. I'm your sister. She wanted to say, how could you forget me?





	1. Arya

Arya followed close behind Tormund as they walked under the dark tunnel that sat below The Wall. There were almost a hundred half frozen and half dead wildlings following them. The air felt almost warm despite being surrounded by ice, but it was better than the relentless cold winds that attacked her face beyond The Wall. Arya Stark's head still ached after every step she took, making the injury on her arm easily forgotten. She breathed out a breath of air she hadn't known she was holding when the gate at the end of the tunnel creaked upward and white light glowed ahead of them.

 

Ghost trailed behind her as they stepped out into the yard of Castle Black, Arya took in the old stone towers, the wooden walkways, the scruffy men in black furs and other skins, wolf skins, seal skins, bear skins, and rabbits. Though she took a special look at the brothers in black, looking for her own. Tormund had said Jon was alive and Arya believed he believed it, but she wasn't completely sure herself. _Is he really here? Or did Gendry die so I could find a grave?_ Arya pushed down her guilt and followed Tormund who had slowed his pace. 

 

“Tormund!” the voice called and Arya looked to see a beautiful women, she had blond hair tied in a braid over one shoulder. Similar to what Arya's hair might have once looked like before going north of The Wall, but the blond's hair was much longer than hers. The girl had light blue eyes, was wearing all white furs, and had a brown eyed girl in a grey gown with half a nose trailing behind her. 

 

“Val! Har! You're looking as beautiful as ever! as are you Lady Stark” Tormund did somewhat of a mock half bow and Arya approached slowly as the two women stepped forward., and Jeyne Poole stopped in her tracks when she saw Arya.

 

“Jeyne?” Arya blurted more confused than surprised, thinking she might be seeing things.

 

“This is Lady Arya Stark, the Lord Commander's sister” the blond, Val corrected.

 

“Previous Lord Commander” Tormund added. Arya gave both of them a strange look before resting her eyes on Jeyne again, who had visibly started shaking.

 

“Who are you?” Val looked to Arya with eyes full of suspicion and Ghost silently barred his teeth at her earning a step back from Val who looked rather offended. It was then Jeyne Poole broke.

 

“I'm sorry!” she sobbed, “I'm _so_ sorry, he said, T-Theon, said you _have_ to remember your _name!_ ” a new wave of sobs drowned her words. “I _had_ to remember my name, or they'd kill me!”

 

“Arya calm down” Val took her shoulders and tried to comfort her while Arya watched with a stone expression as the implications of Jeyne being here sank in. _Jon's dead._ Her heart froze in her chest. She'd traveled thousands of leagues with the plan to avenge her brother's death, but then so much had happened. The Freys, Lady Stoneheart, and Gendry were all dead. Then being given hope that Jon was truly alive. She didn't completely believe them when they told her he was dead, but she'd been too scared to have hope. But if Jon were alive then there was no way he'd be passing Jeyne off as her. “Arya whats wrong?” Val pressed and Arya Stark woke up from her daze of thought.

 

“She's _not_ Arya Stark” she heard herself snap back.

 

“I wasn't going to do it, keep the name...but when he thought I was you...” Jeyne started crying more.

 

“Who thought that?” Arya asked.

 

“What in the hell's are you two talking about?” Tormund yelled rather frustrated.

 

“I'm not Arya Stark” Jeyne wiped at her shortened nose, “ _she_ _is”_ Jeyne pointed at her. 

When she did Arya turned her head at the sound of more foot steps approaching. She thought she was dreaming when she saw him, a long dark gray cloak was wrapped around him lined with black fur that was only a few shades darker than his hair. There was a bastard sword with the pommel of a white wolf hanging from one hip and dagger on the other. He bore a scared face of a man grown now, and his grey eyes that were so much like her own were void of the child like sparkle they once had. There walked the stoic image of her own father, the face Ned would wear when he was being Lord Eddard Stark Of Winterfell. And those empty dark eyes looked right past her, to Jeyne.

 

“Arya what's wrong?” he asked (not looking at her) with a voice that was strange to Arya but had a familiar undertone to it that made her feel nine years old again. Jeyne only cried more. 

 

“Tormund?” Jon asked his name as a question, he seemed confused how to feel. He was clearly glad to see his friend but he kept looking back to Jeyne with a concerned look. He'd barely given Arya a second glace. “I'm, glad you're back” there was an awkward silence and Arya could tell Jon had caught on that he was missing something, Arya stood still and unblinking. She wondered for a moment if she were wearing the wrong face, or if she'd changed so much from the little girl she once was; that she was nothing like the girl Jon Snow would remember. Had she ever truly been Arya Stark? _Am I even his sister anymore? Was I ever?_ Jon gave Val and Tormund a wary look, and when Tormund's nervous eyes went to her, Jon's gaze followed. He finally saw her then, but there was no recognition in his eyes, “Who's this?” he looked to her and back to Tormund.

 

Arya blinked. There had never been words that had cut that deep in her life, not when Joffery had called for her father's head, not when Lady Stoneheart had pleaded not to die, not even when she'd heard the news of her youngest brother's murders. All of those were laced with their own kinds of pain and torment, but Jon Snow's handsome dark eyes looking at her like she were a stranger hurt more than anything ever had.

 

“Jon” Val said tentatively, her eyes were nervous but nothing else gave that away. Jon's eyes were boring into Arya's and she had to look away. First she looked down feeling almost light headed but she had Ghost to steady her, then she turned her head slowly back to to Tormund.

 

“Why doesn't he remember me?” Arya heard herself ask in a quiet voice. Jeyne was sniffling _,_ Tormund scratched his head, Val seemed to be watching Arya carefully, but Jon was the only one to answer her. Neither of them noticed the red priestess approach.

  
“You're saying you know me?” Jon's question was genuine and she could see a hint of guilt in his dark eyes,  _he has no idea who I am._ The realization made her look at him with eyelids unwillingly filled with tears, Arya opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat.  _I'm your sister._ She wanted to say,  _how could you forget me?_

 

“Yes” her answer was barely a whisper. 

 

“How?” he asked gently, as if he knew how close she was to breaking. Arya looked at Jeyne who was wiping tears from her inflamed checks.

 

“I'm sorry Jon” Jeyne mumbled looking at her feet. There was a moment of silence as Jon looked confused before Val cleared things up for him.

  
“Apparently she's not your sister Jon” Val nodded to Arya, “she is.” Jon looked at Arya with his brows knitted in confusion before understanding lit his his features. When it did anger seeped into his eyes and he turned back on Jeyne.

  
“You lied to me?” Arya could see Jon hadn't lost the temper he had from when they were younger, she'd rarely seen it then, given it was never directed at her. 

  
“I'm sorry” Jeyne repeated once more, “I  _had_ to remember...” she broke into sobs again.

  
“You let me think...You pretended to know my  _family_ .” Jon's voice was dangerous.

  
“I  _did_ know them!” Jeyne insisted desperately. Before Jon could answer Arya heard her own hollow voice reply. 

  
“You're the one who doesn't remember me...” a single tear had fallen down her check but she still couldn't look Jon in the eye, she only felt emptiness, she only felt the cold. “Why?” The anger was gone from his eyes and she could see the guilt again upon his scarred face. 

  
“Jon Snow has made sacrifices for the great war to come, his heart, his memories, his life. He's been given this second chance to fulfill the prophecy of Azor Ahai. Remembering you doesn't appear to be apart of that.” A women wearing all red that Arya didn't notice spoke for the fist time with complete certainty. Her hair was as red as her robes, and even her eyes matched: dark pupils examining Arya atop drops of blood. 

  
“Melisandre” Jon seemed to speak the women's name as a warning. 

  
“Second chance?” Arya repeated stupidly as her heart began beating faster.  _No, please not Jon too._

_  
_ “It's complicated” Jon started hastily giving Melisandre an ominous look. Arya ignored him and directed her half question to the red priestess.

  
“You brought him back, didn't you?” Arya wasn't aware of it but her gaze had gone cold, her face regrading back to it's training at the House of Black and White. 

  
Melisandre looked pleasantly surprised by her answer, “I did” she almost sounded proud of herself. Everyone else looked at her disconcerted, including Jon himself. 

  
“How'd you know that?” he asked. It took everything inside her to look him in the eyes and not have her voice break as she spoke to him. 

  
“I've seen it before.” her tone was harder than she thought it'd be. Arya didn't intend to sound angry but beneath her cold exterior, she was a hurricane of emotions. Her lifetime of cruel memories seemed to dance before her eyes, taunting and torturing her. Her fathers execution blurred past her eyes, Jaqen wiping his blood stained sword on her shirt and whispering  _Valar Morghulis_ , Robb's mutilated body, Gendry's teasing smile, her mother's dead eyes. 

 

“You have?” Jon echoed.

  
“Aye, That was what she said Snow.” Tormund offered rather unhelpfully. Arya looked to the confused face of the lingering image of her brother. _He_ _may have his face but it's not Jon._ All Arya could see was Lady Stoneheart in contrast to the dying reminiscence of her mother. _That thing Berric brought back wasn't my mother._ The thought was incontrovertible in Arya's mind, if ever disputed she wasn't sure how she'd be able to live with the things she'd done. _Why should Jon be any different?_

_  
“_ Tormund are you bleeding?” Val interrupted Arya's swirling thoughts, Jon was still staring at Arya but she averted her gaze. 

 

“Just a little scratch _princess_ ” Tormund smiled mischievously and Val shot him a glare, clearly not liking the title. “Not near so bad as the scratch she has hiding under those furs” he pointed to Arya's stiff arm that she held against her chest. A wight had almost cut her forearm in half leaving her without a hand, it probably would have too if it's sword wasn't so old and brittle. “No matter her name you should have your maester friend have a look”

 

“What happened?” Val asked.

 

“What do you think happened princess?” Tormund's eyes became dark with the memory that was still too clear in both their minds. “The dead came hunting, we lost most o' the men we were bringing back here. Lucky thing your apparent _sister_ brought her sword, how is it you Starks keep getting your paws on such fine steal eh?”

 

“I'm not a Stark” Jon answered almost automatically. 

 

“Whatever, I'd be marching on the wall with The Others right now if not for her. I want one of these Valyrian steel swords when you get your hands on em', you should of seen it shatter Snow! Har! That monster was nothing more than ice chips from one swipe!” 

 

“You saw the White Walkers?” asked a handsome young man with dark hair and worried eyes. “and you killed one?”

  
“Aye she killed it, and there was only the one. The rest were the dead.” he explained.

 

“Where did a great lords daughter acquire such a sword?” The red priestess studied her suspiciously and Arya noticed her blood red eyes went to the sword she had hung on her back. 

  
“I'd rather meet the man who taught her to use it” jested Tormund. Arya didn't answer them, only half listening to their conversation lost in her own dreadful thoughts. 

  
“You truly killed a white walker?” asked the young handsome boy who stood a little shorter than Jon Snow. 

  
“I did” she told him duly avoiding Jon's eyes still, “perhaps I should see that maester now.” she suggested half halfheartedly. 

 

“I'll show you where it is” Jon took a step forward and Arya took a step back, ignoring the hurt in his eyes when she did. _Jon's dead,_ she told herself.

 

“I could take her there ser” the young man offered with a soft voice. 

 

“Okay” Jon swallowed nervously never looking away from her, “Tell Sam who she is” The boy nodded and offered Arya his arm.

 

“Mi'lady” Arya noticed how calloused his finger tips wore, _he's an archer,_ she thought but never took the boys arm. Arya looked at him blankly and there was moment of silence before he gave up, “Right, this way” he waved an arm and started walking toward the grey stone tower on the west side of the castle. She followed with Ghost behind her trying to ignore Jon's never swaying stare, the sound of Jeyne's half-nose sniffling, and the whispering of Val and Tormund. There were other eyes too, belonging to the brothers of the Nights Watch she didn't recognize. She wondered how many of them had known Yoren or her uncle Benjen. 

 

“You're truly Jon's little sister? I can't believe... what was her name?” the boy looked back at Jeyne.

  
“Jeyne. Jeyne Poole”

 

“You knew her well?”

  
“She was the stewards daughter at Winterfell...we grew up together.”

 

“Well I can't believe she'd pretend to be _you,_ I mean I know she was hurt after the things Ramsey did to her but...” the boy trailed off before shaking his head at himself. “I'm Satin by the way” he smiled at her but she could see discomfort in his eyes. “I'm your brothers steward actually” 

 

Arya nodded absentmindedly “There's great honor in being a steward” she mumbled a phrase she'd heard her father say once. 

 

“Yes, I never thought I'd ever be a Lord Commander's steward when I came to The Wall. Not with the way the men looked at me...though I guess Jon's not Lord Commander anymore so I'm not the Lord Commanders steward...” Satin's pretty face turned into a frown. 

  
“He's not?”

  
“Well you know because of what happened...with the priestess...”

 

“Do the men not trust him anymore?” she asked, “did he do something?” she thought of Lady Stoneheart once more. 

  
“What? No. The men still like him, well at least the ones who liked him before.” Satin scratched his head awkwardly “I'm not sure if you've heard the Night's Watch's vows mi'lady but it goes  _Night gathers and now my watch begins, it shall not end until my death_ _. _ When Jon died...it released him from those vows”

 

“I see. Was he a good commander?”

  
“Jon? I think so, but you'll get a different answer depending on who you ask” Arya gave him an expectant glace and he continued. “Lot's o'men couldn't see the good he was doing, bringing the wildlings south of The Wall I mean. All they saw were enemies when the true enemy lies north, as you must know mi'lady. You've seen one, you've  _ killed  _ one.”

  
Arya could see the awe in Satin's soft eyes but she ignored it. There was no reason to feel awe while looking at her, maybe she saved Tormund but she'd gotten Gendry killed.  _ I should've listened to him, I should never went beyond The Wall.  _ Her head still ached where the hammer had hit her temple causing a spike of pain in every step, and she deserved every bit of it.  _ I deserve all of it. I don't even deserve to be remembered.  _ Satin cleared his throat at her silence “This is the measter's chambers mi'lady” he began pushing on the door with two hands before holding it open for her.

  
She gave him a short glace while walking through, “It's just Arya” she told him and Ghost followed.

 

“Of course” he nodded in agreement. “Sam I've got you a patient!” he called into the dark room. The walls were all gray stone like the rest of the castle, the only light came blinding in from a square window, and there were multiple cots spread out along the back wall with only one of them occupied by a scruffy man in furs. Arya assumed it was probably a wildling given his attire. “There are more too, Tormund's back.” 

  
As he spoke a round man with a dark beard and light blue eyes came stumbling from behind a corner with a book dangling open in his hand, “he's back?” he asked with fear and a hint of what Arya thought was excitement. It was when he looked at her that he became confused and began squinting his eyes. “Who's this?” he took a few steps forward with his squinted eyes “have we met?”

  
Arya's mind was temporarily free from the dark memories as she recognized the face of Samwell Tarly, she was remembering her life as Cat of the Canals. It was probably one of the happiest time's she'd had over the years. It being the first time she was free from the constant terrors the Riverlands had offered and it being before the servants of the Many-Faced God had truly dug their claws into a girl named Arya Stark. “Sam” she greeted him with a faint smile “I should have known it was you, why else would a brother go to Old Town if not to become a measter?” 

 

“Cat?” Sam's eyes jumped out of his head for a second, “you look so different...w-what are you doing here?”

 

“It would seem I need a measter” she answered calmly.

 

“I mean  _ here,  _ at The Wall” he clarified.

 

Satin interrupted, “Wait you know her?” 

 

“We met when I visited Bravvos” Sam informed him. 

 

“you met Jon's sibling and never said anything?” Satin accused him.

  
“Wh-what? I never...” Arya watched closely as Samwell Tarly stuttered over his lie, “Just Jon and his sister, I swear”  _ Liar,  _ she thought intrigued.

  
“Sam relax, this  _ is  _ Jon's sister. That girl who's with Val's a liar” Satin informed him.

 

“What?” Sam looked to her with round eyes, “You're saying you're Arya Stark?”

  
“Yes, but more importantly I think I'm still bleeding” 

  
“I-ok” Sam pointed to a cot with brown bear furs, “Sit there, it's your arm?” 

  
“Yes” she confirmed as she continued to hold her nearly useless arm against her chest. Sam unwrapped the piece of ripped cloak she had wrapped around it, when he offered her milk of the poppy she almost denied him. _I don't need it,_ she thought. After a moments consideration though she found she wanted nothing more than to sleep, Arya nodded.


	2. Jon

Jon paced the room while Val and Tormund watched him anxiously. In the corner sat Jeyne who's eyes were still puffy from all her tears, Val had been trying to comfort the girl all morning. How can she seem more upset than him? He was the one who'd been lied to for moons, the one who'd treated her like family.  _ She's not Arya, Arya's on the other side of this castle and can't look you in the eye.  _

 

He should have known that Jeyne was an impostor, he should have been able to recognize his own sister. When Jeyne had arrived and Jon couldn't remember anything about Arya Stark, he'd felt so guilty, even thinking Jeyne didn't know how to act around him because he'd forgotten her. In reality Jon now thought Jeyne had just been afraid, afraid that he'd discover her lies. 

 

He thought of Arya standing in the yard of Castle Black again, holding her injured arm to her chest and the frozen blood leaving a trail down the side of her head. Jon remembered thinking she was pretty and that she was another wildling, but he was too distracted by Jeyne's tears to focus on her. Her hair was dark like Jon's was, and her eyes a storming grey. From what he remembered of Winterfell, all his other half-siblings had red Tully hair and blue eyes. His mind was stuck on the look in her eyes when he'd asked who she was, and the way she'd whispered “yes” when he asked her if she knew him. He'd never seen someone appear that devastated, not that he could recall anyway.

 

“You're gonna dig your own grave if ya keep pacing like that” Tormund said before finishing his cup of ale. “and I'll dig my  _ own  _ drinking this piss!” he put the cup down harshly, making Jeyne jump. 

 

“Hasn't someone already started mine?” Jon asked dryly.

 

“No, I think they were just gonna burn you Snow. Maybe throw your ashes off the top of The Wall? I don't know how you fucking kneelers do it.” 

 

Jon didn't answer, he only stopped his pacing and stood by the hearth and felt the warmth of the flames,  _ they're colder than they used to be _ . He looked at them a moment before turning his head to Jeyne. “You said you knew my family, How?”

 

Jeyne looked startled that he was even talking to her, and her brown eyes were shining with fear. “M-My father was Eddrard Stark's Steward. I grew up in Winterfell with you and your half-siblings.” 

 

“Were you and Arya friends?” how would Arya feel knowing her old friend was pretending to be her? Jon Snow had no idea. 

 

“Friends? No. Sansa and I were close friends, but she and Arya rarely got along.”

 

“Why not?” Jon asked and Jeyne swallowed nervously.

 

“My daughters never get along neither Snow, it's what sisters do. Try and claw each others eyes out half the time, Har!” Tormund laughed but Jon ignored him, waiting for an answer from Jeyne.

 

“They were just different people. Sansa loved singing and dancing, Arya would rather play at swords or go riding.”

 

Val smiled, “Maybe your sister would have done better North of the Wall Jon.” 

 

“But she had friends though right? Who was she closest to at Winterfell?” Jon pressed.

 

“You truly don't remember her at all? Do you?” Jeyne momentarily forgot to be afraid as she looked at Jon like he'd grown a pair of dragon wings. “ _ You.  _ You were the person she was closest to, she could always make you smile. She used to sneak off to your room any night she had nightmares, you'd help her hide from the Septa when she was tired of lessons. You'd go  _ everywhere _ together and it nearly drove Lady Catylen mad! You used to finish each others bloody  _ sentences!  _ How can you forget her, but remember so much else?” 

 

Jon stood frozen over the accusation in the girls words.  _ I died for her.  _ At least that's what they told him. Apparently when he'd heard Arya was captive in Winterfell he had decided to ride south and save her, breaking his vows. 

 

“I don't know” he answered solemnly looking back at the flames. Melisandre could see the future in them, was it possible he could see his past? Jon couldn't remember the love he so clearly had for his little sister, he couldn't remember loving anything that much. What good was living again if he couldn't remember what it felt like to be alive? Jon looked to Tormund, “she never told you who she was?” 

 

“Aye, she said her name was Aryanna Snow”  _ who'd want to pretend to be a bastard? _

 

“Creative” muttered Val sarcastically. 

 

“Her friend  _ did _ keep calling her Mi'lady” Tormund added.

 

“Her friend?” Jon asked.

 

“Aye” Tormund's eyes darkened. “He didn't make it...a good lad. And I'd wager he was more than a friend to her.”

 

“Who was he?” Val wondered. 

 

“Hell if I know? Some bastard from the south who'd never seen snow before, said his name was Gendry.”

 

“What happened to him?” Jon dared to ask.

 

Tormund sighed, “The dead came twice on our way south. The first time was a fucking mess, no one was prepared. The bloody bastards took nearly half the men we were marching with, and your sister and some others got separated from me. When the storm cleared and we found each other, the boy was gone. Your sister didn't talk much after that.” 

 

Tormund seemed lost in his memories a moment before Val woke him, “and the second time?”

 

“Aye, the second time. It was dark and we were only a few days from The Wall when the air got cold enough to freeze your pick off” Tormund shook his head, “it was so dark all you could see was the snow, and then the blue eyes floating all around us.”

 

“The wights?” Jon guessed and Tormund nodded.

 

“The wights” he agreed. “Many a'more men died, I almost lost my head to one of those ice monsters; a White Walker. Instead your sister took off _it's_ head _._ It shattered into a million tiny pieces, and half the other wights went down with it...as for her friend...he came back too. Nearly caved her head in with his hammer. Probly' would have too, if not for your wolf.” 

 

“Where could she have gotten a Valyrian steel sword?” he muttered half to himself. Jon looked up as Sam pushed his way into the room. 

 

“I just met your _sister._ ” he announced breathless and refaced, his black cloak sprinkled with snow. 

 

“Is she going to be okay?”

 

“Aye, they'll be a bad scar but she's okay. Sleeping now, I gave her milk of the poppy, but Jon I _know her._ ” 

 

“What do you mean you _know_ her?” he asked startled.

 

“I mean I met her, years ago in Bravvos! She's truly your sister?” _yes, I think she is._ Jeyne had said she was, and the way Ghost had followed her spoke volumes. 

 

“Bravvos?”

 

“That's what I said didn't I? This is _mad_ , what was she even doing North of the Wall?” Sam looked to Jon for an answer but Jon looked to Tormund.

 

He shrugged, “We told em' about where we were going at Eastwatch, she offered to help. Her friend said it was terrible idea but he followed her all the same. She said we were going back to Castle Black anyway.” 

 

“So she was on her way here in the first place then?” Val concluded, “And her friend was right, it was stupid to go North of the Wall.”

 

“Good thing she did though.” Tormund muttered rubbing a finger along the cut above his eye.

 

“Satin said she killed a White Walker...” Sam looked a little pale even thinking of them.

 

“She did, I guess you're not the only slayer anymore Sam” Tormund teased. 

 

“This means Valyrian steel _can_ kill them” Sam smiled a little.

 

“What was she doing in Bravvos?” Jon asked, he wanted any information he could get. Maybe if he heard the right thing it would help him remember her.

 

“She was selling clams, she had her own barrow and everything...truth be told she sort of saved me. Or at least my clothes” 

 

“Your clothes?” Val raised an eyebrow and Sam blushed. 

 

“These Bravos wanted my boots and my cloak, but she scared them off, pulling a knife out of nowhere...” 

 

“Sam that was years ago, she would have been...” Jon paused, _how old would she have been?_

 

“Might be she was twelve or younger, I'm not sure, but she threatened them and they left me be. She gave me the rest of her clams and told me where to find Dareon too, he was at some _brothel_ ” Sam told him bitterly.

 

“I should go speak with her” Jon said. His gut burned with guilt, _why can't I remember her?_ He could remember the glaring eyes of Lady Catylen and the scowls of his half-sister Sansa, he could remember Robb's bright blue eyes and Bran and Rickion following him through the yard...why couldn't he remember the girl he'd given his life to try and protect? It made no sense to him, the same why he couldn't remember Ghost when he woke. With Ghost though he could still fell their connection, he could still feel him in his dreams. 

 

“She's asleep right now, and she will be for awhile. She drank a little more milk of the poppy than I think she needed.” 

 

Jon's hand opened and closed. “Okay” he spent the rest of that day pacing on top of the Wall. Now that Tormund was back, he brought all that was left of the free folk south of the Wall. At lest they hoped he had, anyone else would surly face the same fate as so many others had, and join the army of the dead. The day was colder than the last, and the Wall looked more like a wall of black stone with pink scares than a wall of ice. As the sun set in the west, Jon closed his eyes trying to remember his little sister.

 

Oddly enough he could _smell_ her scent, and as he opened his eyes, there she was laying on a cot inside measter Aemon's old infirmary. Now it belonged to Sam though. He sat silently watching her, her grey eyes were open staring at nothing as she rested her head on her arm. As if she could sense his stare she turned her stormy eyes on him. He thought the girl was looking at him suspiciously as she sat up and rubbed a hand behind his ears. He brought his nose to her arm and sniffed it, he could smell the blood and feel the heat from it, even through her bandages.

 

“It'll be okay, trust me I've had worse.” the wolf didn't understand the words she said but he knew her meaning, gently he gave her hand a lick. The girl with the sad grey eyes gave him a small smile “At least you remember me” she muttered and kissed the direwolf right between the eyes and then Jon opened his.

 

Taking a breath he could feel the cold again, it had been much warmer where his sister was.  _She's awake._ Jon turned around, he had to speak with her, apologize and try to explain everything that had happened. His steps were fast as he carried himself through the yard, men stared as he walked but they always did, that sort of thing happens when you die and come back to life. All of Melisandre's men seemed almost obsessed with him, calling him the prince that was promised and swearing him their swords. Jon didn't want their swords, he wanted his memories.

 

He found himself stopped at the entrance to the infirmary a moment.  _What if she doesn't want to see me?_ She'd flinched from him earlier in the day _,_ after she found out that Melisandre had brought him back. “ _I've seen it before”_ is what she'd told them, her face as cold a ice. Jon had never heard of such things before it had happened to him, as best he could remember anyway. 

 

Pushing his doubts aside he opened the door to the stuffy room. The beds were all in a row on the back wall, mostly full with wildlings. Beside one stood Arya, she was making the bed and Ghost sat obediently watching her. She turned around and paused when she saw him. Sam had given her a Nights watch cloak that was much to big for her, and she wore grey breeches underneath.

 

Jon swallowed nervously “Hey” he said walking over to her, he stopped a few paces away and Ghost came up and rubbed his nose against the palm of his hand. 

 

“Hey” she repeated, he couldn't tell how she was feeling. 

 

“How's your arm?” he asked keeping his distance. 

 

“It'll be fine” she studied him a moment, “do you need something?” 

 

“No I...I just wanted to see you.”

 

“Well here I am” her voice was hoarse and for half a second he thought she looked as scared as he felt. She had taken out the braid form earlier too and her dark hair hung loose and messy over her shoulders. _At least she can look me in the eye this time._

 

“I'm sorry about Jeyne, I...that I thought she was you...” his stomach burned with guilt and anger. 

 

“Because you couldn't remember me, because you _don't._ ” she glanced at her feet a moment, “You don't remember me at all?” she asked looking up, Jon pushed his guilt down and shook his head. He could see tears in her eyes but she angrily wiped them away. “I guess I don't have to worry about disappointing you then.” she almost laughed but it was full of bitter despair.

 

“Why would you ever think that?” he took a step forward, and to his relief she didn't step away this time, but she eyed him cautiously. 

 

“I'm not who I was when I left Winterfell.”

 

“I don't think I am either” he confessed, he found himself searching her eyes for just a piece of his old self. He was desperate to remember something, anything.

 

“Stop looking at me like that” she muttered walking past him.

 

“Like what?” he turned to follow.

 

“Like...” she shook her head and her voice dropped “like you don't know me...” she cleared her throat. “One of Queen Selyse's men said she had a chamber prepared for me in the King's Tower, I should go.”

 

“I'm sorry I don't remember, but it's not like I _wanted_ this.” He couldn't hide his pain. “I want to remember everything, I want to remember how I felt, I want to remember _you_.” 

 

Arya just shook her head sadly, “The girl I was is dead. On my way here I thought you were too...I guess I was right.” she left then, with Ghost at her heels. Jon just stood there drowning in his own despair and anger. His hand opened and closed with frustration.  _It's not my fault, I never asked for it, I never wanted this._

 

When he finally went outside again Arya was no where to be seen, nor was Ghost, and the sun had set completely, leaving only light from torches burning along the walls. What good was being a warg if his own wolf wouldn't stand by him? He supposed that Arya had been right then, Ghost did remember her. As he walked Lady Melisandre approached, even the sight of her made his skin crawl. “Leave me alone” he told her before she could say a thing.

 

“Good evening to you too Lord Snow” 

 

“I'm not in the mood” he growled back.

 

“I would think you'd learn not to dismiss me so quickly, not after everything I've done for you.” her voice was mockingly hurt. 

 

“and after everything you've taken?” he challenged.

 

“You're speaking of your memories.” she sighed, “I did not take those from you Jon Snow, the Lord of Light did. Why he did such a thing is beyond my knowledge, but he has a reason for everything he does.”

 

“I don't give a damn about his reasons, I want to remember. ”

 

“You want to remember _her_ ” she corrected with a voice full of sympathy, but Jon wasn't sure he believed it. “I understand your misgivings, but with the great war drawing closer every night, you should focus your energy on battles you can win. As for the memories you've lost, what good are they? The girl you wish to remember is gone Jon Snow, the person she's become is right up those steps. You need only walk there.” 

 

His eyes looked up to the King's tower, he could see a candle lit in nearly every window. “She doesn't want to talk to me. She probably thinks me a monster like half the other men here.” 

 

Melisandre shook her head, “You're confused Jon Snow, she's your blood. I take it you both loved each other very much. Why else would you break your vows for her? Why else would she travel thousands of leagues just to find you?” she gave a small laugh. “She did not come here for a monster, and nor are you one.” Jon thought back to what Arya had said,  _Why did she come here if she thought I was dead?_ he frowned.

 

“Excuse me” he walked off toward the dinning hall where most of the men who were once his brothers ate together. There he found Val holding the little monster, Tormund, and his son Toregg the Tall. He sat and ate with them all the while trying to remember his sister. He had a few cups of ale in a small attempt to feel something other than anger and despair but it didn't help, all he did was stupidly confess his feelings to Val and Tormund. After a while Val left and Tormund made jokes about his giant member, but even those were hard to laugh at for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off thanks for all the comments, they mean a lot:)  
> Now I probably wont be posting this often but I figure since it was done I should just post it now. As for anything you need to know; I've aged them all up a little bit to give Sam time to become a measter and Arya time to become a better assassin/warrior, and well time to not be twelve. So in this fic everything that happened in Jon's chapters in the books, just took a little longer to happen.  
> And as for any show watchers...The Boltons never had Sansa; they had her best friend Jeyne and passed her off as Arya, Stannis has Theon, Alys Karstark is married to a wildling Lord (yea wildlings sorta kinda have lords) The "little monster" is Mance Raders son (they don't get names till they're two) and Val is Mance's wife's sister who's kind of friends with Jon. Any questions just ask:)  
> *& constructive criticism is always welcome:)*


	3. Arya & Jon

Arya sat cross legged on the bed of her new room. The bed was too big for her but it had thick furs from white and black bears alike and the mattress was stuffed with wool from sheep, it was more than she'd had in months. There was even a hearth and fire made in the corner of the room. She knew she should go and thank the Queen for the bath and the room she had prepared for her, and even the handmaiden she had given her. God knows her own mother would expect as much, but Arya couldn't bring herself to leave the comforts the room offered. 

 

Arya placed her swords and dagger on the table beside the bed almost tenderly and stared at them a moment. Then she carried the Nights Watch cloak that Sam had given her, more like a blanket than a cloak, and went and sat by the fire with it. Ghost followed and curled up beside her, resting his head on her thigh. His red eyes stared up at her knowingly, but he remained as silent as he was when she was a child. “Nymeria's not far you know” she told the direwolf, “When was the last time you saw one of your siblings?” she sighed. Arya knew Nymeria wasn't that far south from here, hunting with hundreds of other wolves, all at her command. Nymeria's  _ and _ Arya's command, she need only to reach for the direwolf for the others to obey her. 

 

As she felt the warmth of the fire Arya couldn't get rid of the image of the red priestess from her mind and her words echoing in her head,  _ “Jon Snow has made sacrifices for the great war to come, his heart, his memories, his life.” He never gave his life though, he was murdered. “Remembering you doesn't appear to be apart of that.” _ She shifted her weight and clenched her fists as if she could push the grief from her body, Ghost placed a paw on her leg and she ran her fingers through his thick fur instead. 

 

Arya tilted her head as she listened to the footsteps approach her door.  _ Just walk by,  _ she prayed. She wasn't in the mood to speak with anyone, she just wished to be left alone to rest. The same way she had after her mother and brother died at the Twins, though the Hound had never let her. Her prayers were left unanswered as they so often were, and someone knocked on the door.

 

“Come in” she called not moving from her spot on the floor. Arya and Ghost turned their heads to see Val's white furs swishing on the wooden floor. “Val” _what does she want?_ “what can I do for you?” she asked as politely as she could manage. 

 

“You can speak to your brother.” she answered walking over as if the chamber belonged to her.

 

Arya turned her head back to the flames, “I'm not in the mood to speak with anyone” she told her coldly. 

 

“Not even your only living brother, who you haven't seen in years?” Arya Stark did not like her tone, nor did she like the way the wildling princess was towering over her. 

 

Arya stood up, leaving the cloak on the floor. Val was taller than her but at least this way Arya wasn't looking up at her. “That _is_ what anyone means.” 

 

“Why? Because you think he's dead? He's not, he's in the hall eating with all the other living men. I'd think after what Tormund had told us, you'd know a dead man when you saw one.” 

 

“He's not who he was.” Arya argued.

 

“and how would you know? You _haven't_ talked to him. You've spent more time with his bloody wolf!” she waved a hand at Ghost and he bared his teeth. She could see a hint of fear in the girl's eyes but she didn't back down. 

 

“I know because I've seen it before!” Arya snapped back.

 

“I don't care what you've seen, Jon is the same person he was before.” Val told her and she had to smile, she could see that lie as much as she could hear it. “and what about this is funny?” Val's blue eyes darkened.

 

“You. You're lying through your teeth, I can hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes. He's changed, you know it as much as I do.” 

 

“Of course he's _changed_ , he was _murdered!_ It doesn't mean he's not the same person he was at heart, a little angrier maybe with a shorter temper, but still himself.” 

 

Arya shook her head and closed her eyes a moment, and when she did she saw Lady Stoneheart's dead eyes staring back at her. “You don't understand, you think you do but you don't.” Arya picked her cloak up off the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders again, suddenly feeling the chill.

 

“Then explain it to me.” though Arya guessed Val didn't care much for her reasons at all.

 

“The first time I saw a man brought back from the dead I was struck with awe, even asked the priest if he could bring my father back too.” she smiled bitterly at the memory. “The second time though...the second time I knew her before they brought her back. I was _so_ happy to find her alive I couldn't see what she'd become...I was so blind I almost missed it when she tired to plunge a _dagger through my heart_.” _Lady Stoneheart never did though, I killed her first._ Arya didn't even care that there were tears in her eyes. “You think Jon's the same because his eyes haven't turned blue? You have no idea what he is” 

 

“Jon wouldn't do that” Val argued but there was no more anger in her voice. “if you'd _just_ talk with him you'd see that.” 

 

Arya turned away from her. “You can go now.”

 

“Why the hell did you even come here then! If you thought he was dead?” the girl snapped again. Arya looked over to her swords and dagger sitting on the table beside her bed. Val's gaze followed her's and understanding donned her features. “You were going to avenge him.” she muttered the answer to her own question.

 

Arya looked back to her with a face of stone, “He was my brother.”

 

“He _is_ your brother, whether you wish to see that or not.” her eyes hardened once more. “You can stay up here and keep punishing him, or yourself. I can't tell. But know what a waste his death was because he did it for you, he died for _you_.” Arya's eyes snapped back up at that, “No one told you that part did they?” Val's smile was cruel, “The reason they killed him was because he was riding south with an army of free folk, to _save you._ You remember that the next time you see him.” Val stormed out and slammed the door behind her. 

 

Her words left Arya shaking, she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself but it was no good. _No one has no tears,_ she told herself over and over, but she wasn't no one anymore. _He died for you._ The words left her heart hammering against her chest causing her head to pound back in return, making for a painful song. It was all too much, and it was all her fault. If she'd never went north of the Wall Gendry would still be alive, if Nymeria had never pulled her mothers body from that river Beric would never have brought her back, If she'd just come home sooner than no one would have thought she married Roose Bolton's bastard, and Jon wouldn't have died. 

 

Off in the distance she heard Nymeria let out a howl filled with all the grief Arya couldn't put into words. A hundred other wolves cried with her, filling the air with bone-chilling music. The fur on Ghosts back spiked up but he didn't join the chorus. Arya paced the room a moment closing her eyes but when she opened them she stood beside the looking glass, she could see her own tired eyes looking back at her and the bruised temple Gendry had given her. 

 

In that moment Arya could hear the men, women, and children screaming as they died that night. See the way the wights eyes had glowed like a hundred candles made of blue flame and feel the cold air in her lungs. She'd fought as hard as she could, even killing one of the white walkers. But when Gendry had come back for her, stumbling through the snow with ice blue candles in his eyes, she'd froze. There had been a voice screaming in the back of her mind to do something, anything.  _ Just swing your bloody sword,  _ it cried. She hadn't though, she'd just stood there as the hammer came flying toward her face.  _ If Ghost hadn't come out of no where I might still be with him...dead, but maybe not so alone. _

 

_ He died for you.  _ Arya closed her hands into firsts again as she looked back at herself, hating her own reflection.  _ Some roads lead to the same castle,  _ Jon's fourteen year old voice echoed in her head.  _ And what terrible roads they were brother.  _

 

**********

 

Jon left the dinning hall after growing weary of Tormund's laughs and the sounds of the flutes and their chipper music. Some of the torches had gone out along the walls leaving half the castle in darkness. Melisandre would have her steward come and relight them, he did not doubt. 

 

“ _Jon_ ” A voice called behind him and he turned to see Alys Karstark trailing behind him, her dark blue cloak snapping in the wind. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Is it true? That girl in the King's Tower is truly your sister?” she asked breathless, she'd ran to catch up with him.

 

“I'd say so, Ghost seems to like her more than me” he mumbled.

 

Alys laughed and a huge smile spread across her face. “This is the best news the North has had in years!”

 

“How? You thought Jeyne was her not a days turn ago, nothings changed.”

 

“Nothings changed? If the Boltons never married Arya into their family it leaves them without a claim on the North, or Winterfell. As far as everyone knows there are no Stark heirs, with all your brothers gone and Sansa missing as well, it makes Arya the heir to Winterfell. An _unmarried_ heir.” she grinned.

 

“That may all be true, but I don't think the Boltons are going to give the castle back because of it.”

 

“No they won't, if they get word the real Arya Stark is at Castle Black...only the gods know what they'll do.” her eyes darkened and Jon's stomach tightened. _Would the Bolton bastard come for her too?_ He didn't have much time to wonder as the sound of a door slamming made him and Alys jump, he looked up to see Val marching down the steps of the Kings Tower with a face carved of anger.

 

“Val whats wrong?” he walked over to her.

 

“Just talking to your senseless sister” she growled back.

 

“Well what did you say to her?” he asked frustrated, he _didn't_ tell Val to speak with her.

 

Val smiled without joy, “I just told her what you died for is all.”

 

“You _what?_ ” Jon turned away and began making his way up the stairs but froze in his steps when he heard it. The sound of a direwolf howling in the night, it would have been a rare and amazing sound to hear on its own but what followed made his blood run cold. Hundreds of wolves mourning with the first, and something about their voices made his chest tighten. _They're crying,_ he thought. Men all around the castle were sticking their heads out windows fearfully, the music in the dinning hall stopped, and horses and dogs alike started whining and barking. Both Val and Alys looked up at him wide eyed; Jon kept running up the steps. For a moment he stopped, he didn't even know what room she was in, but only half a second later the sound of breaking glass guided his steps.

 

Arya was standing beside what was left of the mirror when he walked in, the glass shards decorated the wooden floor beside drops of her blood. She looked up at him with dark grey eyes so much like his own, though hers had tears threatening to fall from them. “I-Im sorry I-” the words caught in her throat and he thought the howls of the wolves grew louder as she closed her eyes and brought her shaking bloody fist to her chest. She turned away from him as if ashamed, Jon crossed the room in only a few strides and pulled her towards him. It was not something he'd ever do to someone he didn't know, but it felt right, like an instinct.

 

At first Jon thought she would pull away from him but then her body fell into his, her head against his chest and her hands gripping the front of his shirt as she sobbed. “It's okay” he whispered “you're okay, you're safe.”

 

She only cried harder, “I'm  _ so _ sorry” she told him between her sobs “It's my fault-”

 

“ _No.”_ he told her firmly, holding her tighter than before. “Don't say that, don't even think it.” Jon wanted to curse Val for doing this to her then, but he wouldn't let Arya go. They stood there for a time as she cried and Jon tried to comfort her, rubbing a hand on her back and resting his head atop of hers. When Jon had awoken after his death he'd felt utterly alone. He'd been surrounded by people he recognized but none of them he loved, none of them had _truly_ known him. As he stood there smelling the snow in Arya's damp hair he thought of Winterfell, of home. _She's my home now, my blood and only living family._

 

As her shaking died down so did the cries of the wolves and Jon had to stop himself from shivering.  _ A warg. Like me,  _ he thought.  _ No.  _ another voice whispered in his head,  _ much stronger than you.  _ That was no an ordinary pack of wolves, it sounded as if there were  _ hundreds _ of them. “The wolves...” he muttered.

 

“I know” she said with a hoarse voice while untangling herself from his shirt and looking down at Ghost. “Nymeria's never too far, and her pack's always with her.” she brought her hands up to wipe the tears from her face but when she did, she smeared her own blood across her cheek. She almost seemed confused, as if she'd forgotten she smashed the mirror. Jon brought his hand to her check and wiped it away with his thumb, her eyes studied him and she'd grown so still he wondered if it was the wrong thing to do. “I've missed you _so_ much” she whispered suddenly and Jon smiled.

 

“Well I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.” he thought of Ramsey's letter, _and I wont let that bastard touch you._

 

“I'm sorry for what I said earlier...” her voice was full of guilt, “I've seen things Jon, magic it's a dangerous thing...it doesn't always do what you think it will.”

 

“A sword without a hilt, there's no safe way to hold it.” he said half to himself and Arya nodded. Jon reached over and gently took her left hand in his, “we should have Sam take a look” he told her examining her hand. There was a cut across her knuckles, but it didn't seem too deep. As he held her hand he could feel it was as calloused as his own, and he saw her new cut had plenty of other little scares to keep it company. 

 

“It's not that bad, I wouldn't bother waking him.” she simply pulled her hand back and rubbed her blood on her clean breaches. 

 

Jon shook his head and went to close the door, “It'll be okay, because you've had worse right?” he wasn't sure if she'd understand what he meant at first, but not a second later he could see her lips pulling in the slightest of smiles as she traced the cut on her hand. 

 

“I thought Ghost was acting strange” she muttered looking up, “You've been watching me?” Her accusation was almost playful.

 

“It was an accident truly, I can't really control it.” he watched her a moment with Ghost siting beside her, his head was past her waist. “Can you? Control it?” 

 

“For the most part I can, for years I thought they were just dreams.” 

 

“and all those wolves...they listen to you? Not just Nymeria?” Jon could remember that his brothers and Sansa had all had their own direwolves once and figured Nymeria was Arya's, but he couldn't seem to remember how they'd gotten them. 

 

“They listen to Nymeria, and shes...” Arya searched for the words.

 

“A part of you?” he finished for her, he felt the same way about Ghost. Arya nodded and ran her good hand behind Ghost's ears. Jon took off his cloak and threw it on an empty chair before going to lay on the bed.

 

“What are you doing?” she still stood there in the center of the room as Ghost abandoned her and jumped up onto the bed beside him. He was thinking of what Jeyne had said before, of how Arya would go to his room when she had nightmares. Finding your only living brother after years and having him completely forget you seemed close enough to a nightmare to Jon, he was hoping she'd want him to stay.

 

“Your room's better than mine” he told her instead.

 

“Is it?” She grinned and seemed to look right through him and his motives and his smile matched her own. “and how many nights did you steal Jeyne's bed?” she said while looking out the window.

 

“I didn't.” _is she mad about Jeyne?_ “I think she was scared of me, she's sort of scared of everything right now”

 

There was dry smile on her lips “Jeyne Poole pretending to be  _ me. _ ” she shook her head before joining him on the bed, where Ghost lay between them. “If it wasn't so sad, I might just laugh.” he gave her a questioning look. “we weren't exactly best friends” she muttered while pulling the blankets up.

 

“She said as much before, that she was friends with Sansa” he leaned over and blew out the candle beside the bed, leaving the only light coming from the fire in the corner of the room.

 

“They were best friends” her voice was distant then as she stared at the ceiling. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“I'm just wondering what happened to her...to Sansa I mean.” 

 

“They say she murdered Joffery” he muttered looking up too.

 

“I hope so” When Jon looked back over to Arya she had closed her eyes and curled up next to the giant white direwolf. 

 

“Goodnight little sister” he whispered. Her eyes never opened but she smiled softly.

 

“Goodnight Jon.” 


End file.
